About Me

Matthew Freeman is a Brooklyn based playwright with a BFA from Emerson College. His plays include THE DEATH OF KING ARTHUR, REASONS FOR MOVING, THE GREAT ESCAPE, THE AMERICANS, THE WHITE SWALLOW, AN INTERVIEW WITH THE AUTHOR, THE MOST WONDERFUL LOVE, WHEN IS A CLOCK, GLEE CLUB, THAT OLD SOFT SHOE and BRANDYWINE DISTILLERY FIRE. He served as Assistant Producer and Senior Writer for the live webcast from Times Square on New Year's Eve 2010-2012. As a freelance writer, he has contributed to Gamespy, Premiere, Complex Magazine, Maxim Online, and MTV Magazine. His plays have been published by Playscripts, Inc., New York Theatre Experience, and Samuel French.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Donald Rumsfeld's Letter of Resignation

God, it's been a long strange trip. Who knew that after all this 'blood under the bridge,' I'd be secretly sneaking into your office at this hour, drunk on the good stuff, writing this letter of resignation on the back of a White House napkin? I mean, some people might have expected it, and I'm sure you'll make it all sound great at the press conference tomorrow, but for now, just between you and I...shit, brother. This is wack.

Last night, as the election results came in, and Turd Blossom held is crackberry close to his heart and started reciting districts in that random, speaking-in-tongues creepy way he does, I started to get the impression that people were blaming me for all this. Maybe it was the grass making me paranoid... but hell, it is my fault isn't it? Well, mine and yours. And the CIA. And, fuck, we all really screwed the pooch on this one didn't we? But it's mine too, and that's cool. I can take the heat. I'm a macho man, and I can cross my arms in that way that makes your biceps look bigger (you know, with your fists under your arms?), and if I cause the deaths of lots of innocent people, like a lot of them, I'll admit it. I was wrong. I mean, I knew I was wrong from the start... but now that I'm really drunk and high, I' m starting to fucking understand it.

When we looked at Iraq at the start, I was just seeing the buildings, you know? There were some great targets there, for some good explosions and firefights, and that looks GOOD when you're running for office. Also, Saddam had the moustache thing going, which is totally a Hitler thing, but he also wasn't working the beard like Osama, so I figured...hell, not ALL Muslims will hate us. I also figured, you know, we could win in Afghanistan all day, but it's just like goats and fields and stuff. No headlines. It was a total waste of time.

Now I see that Iraq is this gigantic, mult-layered, culturally diverse COUNTRY. Even if it was invented, sort of, by limeys. Think about it: It's got like tons of shit in it. I heard that a lot of what happens in the Bible happened in Iraq. No joke. Look it up.

Well we bombed it. Tons of it. Like most of it. Well half. More than half? Who gives a shit?

Now, because we didn't bomb it completely gone, there's a bunch of communist women who are about to tell us how to think about black people. That's what going to happen. They're going to come into the Congress, and they're going to tell us to pay servants a decent wage, and insist on healthcare for people (shitheads, healthcare costs money), and they're going to abort everything and marry men to other men, and they're going to try to fix the mess we made in the Middle East. As if that's their mess. It's MY damn mess. Fuckers.

Anyway, I know this isn't the best way to tell you all this. I've gone through like...wait...15 napkins. Something like that. My pants are off because I puked on them. I mean everywhere. I can't hold my liquor like Cheney's old lady can. Not since I got so old.

Christ I feel old. It's time for Rummy to say "Gin!" Or something. Is that a way to say "I quit?" I quit. I'm sorry. Next time we do this, I'll pick a smaller country and I'll do it with more guys. We'll outnumber their population 2-to-1 next time. No joke. It'll be amazing.

This time, though, I'm going to head home to wherever it is I come from, let the wave of guilt and regret wash over me, hit myself repeatedly with a golf club, and pray for the best. I know everything thinks the Liberals control Congress because of me, I know they do, and I can't face that shit. I won't take that one lying down. I'll take it alone, in my home, while you negotiate with a chick from San Francisco. Good luck to you on that... she's got the whitest teeth on earth. White like a shark.